


yes to heaven

by lilybluee



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Grief, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybluee/pseuds/lilybluee
Summary: This is when it usually clicks.A dream, he thinks.A nightmare.
Relationships: Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	yes to heaven

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my recent night terrors, awful and unnecessary, thank you lord. 
> 
> title is [one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvZN8OaPMKk) of lana's unreleased songs (forgive me goddess). [The Blackest Day](https://open.spotify.com/album/2DpEBrjCur1ythIZ10gJWw?highlight=spotify:track:45pI8224KKX9Gx5fiyvEAh) is what fueled my brain through the rest of the fic ♡ 
> 
> **warnings**: hoseok is still recovering from the past death of a loved one, so please, be mindful of the tags.

✧ 

It’s a deep dive, he barely manages to resurface, spluttering and spitting warm ocean water. Hoseok floats like a leaf and looks skyward, where the moon is on the verge of crumbling, the stars snuffing out in turn, and his world grows darker, and his lungs fold in further, and it just feels a little like dying.

This is when it usually clicks.

_A dream_, he thinks, _A nightmare_. _Generational curse. _

Hoseok just keeps floating until a large wave drags him under and muffles his screams. A wave so black it strikes this deep, corrosive fear in his bones. It’s never enough.

He flails ungracefully and looks up, to what remains of the crumbles. It’s a harrowing sight, the moon wilting away, the stars not far behind. He grabs his chance and resurfaces again. It barely feels like it.

The ocean is always warm. Like a bubbly bath at one in the morning. He shivers so hard he bites his tongue, tries a final scream to force himself awake.

His shadow quivers, and he sees the usual leviathan roaring from the deep, snappy and wiggly and awfully loud, a slimy limb wrapping around his middle and snapping his bones into particles. Hoseok just hangs there because the pain feels too real, his pulse violent in his throat. He hiccups and maybe hyperventilates, waits in the dark for the leviathan to bite his head off so he could get thrown back into the world. The waves grow in height, so colossal he barely spots his wounded sky.

It starts as gentle tingling at the small of his back, like a caress, inching upward, pressing at his shoulder blades. His nerves settle and he unclenches his jaw, loosens his muscles, watches his world brighten, takes his deepest breath.

The plumes wrap around his frame, and Hoseok only whispers a word.

“Hyunwoo?”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The sun blinds his sensitive eyes, and he squints through the sweat. Hoseok ignores the pressure on his ribs and the painful lump in his throat, wipes his face with his sleeves. The same sleeves that belong to the expensive hoodie Hyunwoo got him as a birthday present for his twentieth birthday. He restrained himself from wearing it for a while for the sake of not getting it dirty on the first week. Now, the hems are already fraying from overuse.

The bed dips with Hyunwoo’s weight. “Here, it seemed like you were having a hard time in your sleep.”

Hoseok accepts gratefully the offered glass of water. He feels ten percent better, and he would’ve returned to bed if it weren’t for the lingering leviathans at the back of his mind. He puts away the glass on the nightstand and pulls Hyunwoo in by the arm, draping himself over Hyunwoo like a candy wrapper.

“No, Hoseok, you’re sweaty as hell, and we have school-”

“You know Kihyunnie doesn’t like to cuddle, let me have this, pleeease.”

His scent is something woody, something floral, with a hint of sweetness. Hoseok sticks his nose in Hyunwoo’s neck.

“Hyunwoo-ssi, Hyunwoo love, the man of my dreams, what I wouldn’t do to cage you in a castle and crown you as my king-”

“I’d rather you didn’t, thank you.”

“Did you make me breakfast?” Hoseok asks hopefully, even if he already knows the answer. But Hyunwoo pulling the shy face and trying to hold in his usual bashful smile is the treat of the day, (of the week, really).

“Uhh, Kihyunnie helped out before he left for his shift,” Hyunwoo says. “He’s a sweetheart, you should treat him better.” His fingers twist gently in Hoseok’s hair, stars and circles scribbled on Hoseok’s scalp.

“So you did make me breakfast.”

“You say it like that as if it’s not simple routine at this point.”

“You know you’re it for me.”

At age seven or eight, Hoseok had caught this nasty fever that had him bedridden for a week. The nightmares were so awful that even now, as a new adult, he still catches glimpses of the same dreams, the dread and hurt never waning throughout the years. His mother would hold him at night, running her fingers through his hair, whispering soft stories in the stillness of the dark, and only then would Hoseok rest.

“Wanna talk about it?”Hyunwoo asks him, gentle, and it’s just a little less of a burden.

He shakes his head.

He started taking note of the feathers for almost a year now, and Hoseok deliberately waits for night to fall and for Kihyun’s soft snores to fill the house and soothe his nerves before he reaches beneath the bed for his sophisticated wooden chest to unveil the plumes he’s been collecting in hiding for some inner peace and self-preservation.

No human is like Hyunwoo, therefore, Hyunwoo is no human.

The white, snowy feathers are proof to back up his theory. Hoseok will be damned if some exotic bird is roaming the house and shedding its wings without his or Kihyun’s knowing.

Sometimes it’s a tiny one at the threshold, plucked and silky it tickles his nose when it touches his face. Other times; it’s a pile of plumes dumped by the window sill, or by the foot of the bed, or scattered all over his pillows and blankets.

Coincidently, it always happens after Hyunwoo pays them a short visit before a morning run or a trip to the grocery store. He never thought of bringing it up to Kihyun, because he just knows that no logical explanation could be conjured up.

Coincidently, Hoseok is always the first to stumble upon them.

He will be _damned_.

He adds the latest feathers he plucked from the flower vase in their living room this morning to his collection, locks the chest firmly and hides it away. The bed sheets are freshly washed, they smell of laundry detergent. Hoseok dumps his slippers and buries himself in his blankets. Kihyun is such an angel, changing his bed sheets and all. Hyunwoo is right, he should start treating him better.

_an angel_

Hoseok watches the full moon from his window, brain running with possibilities. He met Hyunwoo as a first year college student, when orientation was stretching for too long and chatting softly with his neighbor didn’t seem too bad of a suggestion, especially when said neighbor in seat had this gentle smile that captured his heart in shackles and set fire to it. Yes, orientation day was a very hot, very tough day.

And though they ended up in totally different majors, with Hyunwoo focusing on anthropology and Hoseok diving into art and design, they kept spending time together, on the beach four kilometers from university, the salty breeze sticking to his lungs and shaking him awake, by the local park where they would pat dogs and chat softly about lectures and school work, about food, about home. Just like him, Hyunwoo is a big eater, and every once in a lifetime they would treat themselves to a feast in a fancy restaurant.

Just like him, Hyunwoo is a cat person, and Tama is a sweetheart. Though a senior orange tabby cat, her energy is unmatched, and she keeps jumping on Hoseok’s back to get him to play fetch with her. Whenever Hoseok would stay over at Hyunwoo’s place, she would snuggle into his chest and make his heart weep from warmth. 

He jumps at the sudden knocking on his door. Kihyun is shrouded in shadows, but Hoseok picks up that scowl almost instantly.

“Go to sleep, dumb hyung,” Kihyun grunts through rusty vocal cords. Hoseok almost winces.

“What are you doing awake? It’s one in the morning.”

“I woke up to piss, but I could still hear you thinking from across the hall.” Kihyun doesn’t make any effort to turn on the lights. Hoseok could kiss him for that sliver of kindness. Bright lights cause him the greatest headaches.

“I had coffee this afternoon,” Hoseok says which, technically, is not a lie. He sneaked a sip earlier from Hyunwoo’s iced coffee and the scolding that ensued was almost worth it because getting Hyunwoo riled up is such an impossible feat, that man cannot get mad, honest to god. “I’ll sleep soon enough, see, my eyes are already closing, I can no longer see you, Kihyunnie, where are you, I can’t see.”

Kihyun sighs. “Hyunwoo hyung would never let you have coffee. It’s terrible for your health.”

“I can handle my adult body, thank you for your concern.”

“Last time you had caffeine, you went three nights without sleep and passed out in the tub.”

“It’s a learning process.”

“Are you okay, hyung?”

Hoseok’s next witty words catch in his throat. He’s getting antsy, he’s aware, but he’s still shaken, still can’t let go of the leviathan and the withering moon. He doesn’t wish to close his eyes. He can’t handle more night terrors. At least for now.

“Please, go to sleep, Kihyun,” Hoseok says softly. “Do that for me.”

Kihyun stands there for a beat too long, and Hoseok can sense his displeasure. Eventually, he closes the door and wishes him goodnight.

He falls asleep at three in the morning. The tiny opening in the window lets in a soft breeze, ruffling the perspiration on his forehead and chilling his skin.

It's another dark place, but Hoseok isn't floating this time, and the moon, his beloved, is providing the only light in this wide field.

Only, it's no normal field. Tombstones fill the soil, hundreds of them, thousands, identical and carrying the same name, same time of birth, of death. Hoseok starts feeling dizzy, sick with dread. He'd rather just drown in scalding ocean and experience being eaten alive, have his head hacked off his shoulders, a monster chewing his flesh, tearing him limb from limb.

He falls to his knees, slots his fingers tightly together and buries his face in the mud.

There's this beautiful tune, haunting and ghostly, his mother always used to hum in the house, while washing dishes, while getting ready to go out, while rubbing his back with a cooling cream in the worst stages of his fevers. Hoseok tried looking for it everywhere, but it was all futile. 

His mother's voice thrums in his skull, like a migraine, stabby and painful. Hoseok touches his scalp, careful, afraid his brain will shatter into gory shards. The tune turns into screams, shrill, high-pitched, pulse strong in his ears, a thunder, heart hammering, bile and threat of vomit. Hoseok, shaking and shaking, collapses by his mother's grave.

He wakes up gasping before sunrise, hyperventilating into his pillow.

“Are you _okay_?”

“I might look like shit, Kihyunnie, but I assure you I’ve never felt better.” Whenever he lies, Hoseok’s teeth nibble on his bottom lip and his fingers drum on whatever surface is in sight. This time, it’s the kitchen table. They’re having crêpes for breakfast. Hoseok picks up the honey jar and watches Kihyun’s eyes widen in horror.

“Don’t you dare-”

But Hoseok is already dumping almost half the jar’s content on his mountain of crêpes, the plate a pool of dripping honey. He plucks an edible flower from the kitchen vase and places it on the peak of the mountain. It’s a monstrosity, and Hoseok digs in.

“You’re such a disease,” Kihyun says.

Hoseok makes the mistake of laughing through a forkful. He chokes on his honey and almost spits a lung. Kihyun puts a lot of strength behind the slaps on Hoseok’s back.

“What. In the fuck?”

“Don’t curse-” a cough, “don’t curse at me.”

“Then don’t push me to, you’re all sticky.”

The doorbell saves the little that remains of Hoseok’s dignity. Kihyun taps gently on Hoseok’s neck before he heads for the door.

Hoseok inhales deep. He mistakenly caught his reflection this morning in the bathroom’s mirror, and the dark circles beneath his eyes call for some concern. Kihyun making a fuss so early in the morning was not misplaced. He feels like a withering flower, deprived of sunlight and decent humidity, cut at the stem, barely hanging on.

“...I watched her video this morning. I think we might just be able to pull it off.”

“Hyung, there isn’t enough flour in the house. And lemon, too, I don’t know if we have that.”

“I can always grab some from the grocery store and there’s also –oh hey, Seokkie, you look...splendid.”

Hoseok flushes bright red, and for one horrifying second he almost cries.

Hyunwoo walks to his side. His infuriating, more-than-perfect scent soothes all of Hoseok’s pains, too predictable on his part. _He’s no human. _

“Are you well?”

Hoseok barely opens his mouth when Hyunwoo cuts him off.

“Don’t answer that. Come with me, you need some air.”

There's already screeching in the store which is, arguably, less than ideal. Hoseok squints through the harsh ceiling lights and contemplates passing away on the floor. 

The source of the screeching is a mini-human tugging at his poor mother's sleeve, throwing what is probably the biggest tantrum of his life. Hoseok has never felt such deep empathy for any parent before. 

"Remind me to never have kids."

Hyunwoo is currently studying two different brands of white sugar. Clad in a beige trench coat, light brown hair effortlessly disheveled, he looks like he just walked out of a magazine cover. Hoseok's hands itch to grab for Hyunwoo's glasses, maybe run his fingers through Hyunwoo's hair while he's at it. 

Hyunwoo ends up dumping them both in their basket.

"Children are humanity's salvation," Hyunwoo says. "Not yet corrupted by the wicked world."

"Children are _evil_, middle schoolers, especially."

It happens again with cornstarch. Hyunwoo looks to be in such dilemma that Hoseok almost doesn't unhinge his jaw to argue. Almost.

"You're aware groceries are expensive, right?"

"It's okay, I'm paying."

"That's not what I meant."

Hyunwoo turns around to face him, his golden skin flushed and glowing for the heavens, smooth as marble, no imperfections, lips curved in a smile. Hoseok melts a little in his shoes. 

He flinches when Hyunwoo squeezes his shoulders inch by inch, moving up to massage his neck, the basket waiting by their feet. Hyunwoo's palms are warm and gentle on his tired skin. Hoseok thinks of Tama, thinks of purring at the careful fingers tapping at his cheekbones. He could sleep for a year and it would not be enough.

"I care for you, Seokkie," Hyunwoo says softly near his ear.

"I know," Hoseok says and takes a moment to breathe.

Hyunwoo’s thumb hovers over his jugular, grazing him, teasing. The lights over the next aisle flicker. Someone passes them with their cart, but Hoseok barely notices. Closing his eyes, he leans into Hyunwoo. 

“I could sleep with you.”

Hoseok can’t help the chuckle. It comes out muffled, a little chocked up. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

He knows Hyunwoo’s smiling. “Well, that too.”

“I like my supper served at seven, my dessert at seven thirty.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Not too salty, not too sweet.”

“Duly noted.”

“I care for you, too, Hyunwoo.”

Hyunwoo kisses his neck. “I know.”

The house is cozy and smells of burnt caramel.

"_Fuck_, that burns."

"Use an oven mitt you dipshit."

The voices float in from the kitchen. 

They take off their shoes and hang their coats on the rack. Hoseok’s skin hums at the sudden shift in temperature. He locks firmly the door and follows Hyunwoo inside the house.

There's a fucking titan towering over Kihyun by the sink. 

"Did you grow..._taller_?" Hoseok asks, frowning. 

"Hyung, I'm twenty, I ceased growing last year," Hyungwon says with clear smugness in his words. Kihyun is too busy with the scorching oven to care for their misfits.

"You're one inch taller, I used to come up to your chin."

"And now you're up to my stomach?" Hyungwon mocks.

"And now I could headbutt you easily in the _balls_."

"Did you get the cornstarch, hyung?" Kihyun slithers like a snake from the oven to the fridge where Hyunwoo is currently stacking it with milk and yogurt.

"Of course, but I couldn't decide on which one to get."

“Any would’ve worked, really.”

They make lemon meringue pie together and manage under Kihyun's watchful eye not to burn the house down. Hoseok couldn’t help sticking to Hyunwoo's side the whole time as he whisked about and retrieved pans from the cabinets. 

The knowing look Hyungwon keeps sending him is infuriating, but it all pales at the prospect of cuddling the hell out of Hyunwoo and getting the sleep of his life.

"Seokkie, a little space, if you would allow…"

"Oh, right, sorry.”

Night falls eventually, and the house carries on smelling like a fine bakery with its finest display of pastries. Kihyun puts on Wolf Children and runs to the couch, uses Hyungwon’s thigh as a personal armrest. Hyungwon barely gets out a word of protest, his eyes already closing shut. His swaying head drops naturally on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Kihyunnie, why would you choose such a movie?” Hoseok complains.

“And what about it you don’t like? It’s a masterpiece.”

“It makes me _weep_, I deserve something brighter, something humorous, please.”

“Hyunwoo hyung, is the movie okay?”

“Definitely, it’s a personal fav,” Hyunwoo says.

“Sweet, let’s carry on.”

“_You evil fuc-” _

Hyungwon snores like a pig and it distracts Hoseok a bit from the growing lump in his throat. He could just walk away, he figures, but Hyunwoo is pressed against him in their small house couch, his hands toying with Hoseok’s fingers, light touches on Hoseok’s palms, light pinches, a tight lock. Hyunwoo slots their fingers together and holds on. It’s all Hoseok thinks about for the next thirty minutes. The movie comes to an end.

Kihyun’s breathing sounds even and slow in the silence that follows the rolling credits. He sleeps soundly on Hyungwon’s lap, eyelashes fluttering, tiny fist clutched to his chest, a literal baby, Jesus Christ.

“Who would’ve thought The Yoo Kihyun could look like _that _in his sleep.”

Hyunwoo chuckles. “Now you know.”

“Hmm, I feel like a parent.” Hoseok says. “I just want to tuck them both to bed and kiss them goodnight.”

“Thought you didn’t want kids.”

Hoseok gives Hyunwoo a smile he thinks is playful, not serious, and jabs at his shoulder. “Not with the wrong person, no.” He shrugs and tries to ignore the painful tug at his heart when he draws out his hand from Hyunwoo’s grip. The warmth lingers. “Want to carry them with me?”

Kihyun weights more than he looks, _it’s all in those cereals he keeps hoarding in his room, _and Hoseok does his best to avoid bumping into walls and doorknobs. Hyunwoo follows him, Hyungwon cradled in his arms.

They dump the both of them not unkindly on Kihyun’s bed and close the door. Hoseok secretly sneaked in kisses.

“They just won’t ever let me grace them with my affection, you understand, right?”

Hyunwoo is quiet while filling a glass of water from the dispenser. The softness of his eyes makes Hoseok’s chest fill with bubbles. He takes slow sips, leaning back on the counter.

“Every day, you astonish me with your kindness, Hoseokkie.”

Hyunwoo sets the rinsed glass in the sink and takes some casual steps forward. Hoseok’s heart lurches to his throat, he almost spits it on the floor. His hands grow clammy and he wipes them on his pyjama pants.

Hyunwoo is steadily approaching. “And for such a tiny body, you sure have so much of it, like, an overflowing amount.”

“It’s just a normal amount, Hyunwo-”

“So much love, your soul sensitive and tender, the tiniest misfortune gets your tears going.”

Hyunwoo stands close and Hoseok’s knees almost falter. Heat rushes up his neck, like swarming wasps, and it’s just as terrifying.

“I’m no saint,” He says, because it’s true.

“You’re incredibly human.”

“And you’re incredibly...not human, but incredible all the same.”

Hyunwoo smiles.

Hoseok nods understandably.

“It’s okay to lean on people, sometimes,” Hyunwoo says. “It’s okay to lean on me, too.”

“What’s different about you?”

“I chase unpleasant dreams away, catch them and bury them in the ocean.” He holds onto Hoseok’s arm. His hand is warm through Hoseok’s sweater, too warm, almost. “I take off at night, up in the forest where no one’s around. Decent exercise for my repressed muscles.”

“What else?”

“I like my cereal soggy.”

“Ew, gross.”

Hyunwoo laughs. It’s a quiet night, the moon high and bright through the kitchen window. Hoseok takes the last step and drops his head on Hyunwoo’s shoulder.

“It’s been four years since her passing, you know,” he half-mumbles, “she was healthy, the healthiest in our household, I believe. Dad was too much in love with his alcohol to care for anything.”

Hyunwoo hums, puts his arms around him. Hugs like the heavens are watching.

“It was sudden. A heart attack,” Hoseok says. “Made me terrified of mortality since. It’s all fickle and fragile, this existence. It hurts when I love and lose. Makes me want to never love again. Never lose again.”

Hyunwoo brings Hoseok's head up. His eyelashes feel wet, slight tremors ruffling his bones. The white silkiness of the moon catches on Hyunwoo’s brow, and for a moment, it all makes sense. 

“But closing my heart off.” Hoseok shakes his head. “That’s no way of living,”

Hyunwoo lets his arms fall, drags Hoseok’s hair back and kisses him on the forehead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

They climb into Hoseok’s bed and wrestle for the spot by the wall. Hyunwoo allows his loss and looks on fondly as Hoseok lies down and presses his cheek and bare belly into the cool wall.

“I just don’t understand, it’s barely spring and it’s already this warm. It makes me nervous for summer.” Hoseok squishes his cheek further. “Summer puts me in weird moods, but at least you’ll be there.”

“Summer’s my favorite season,” Hyunwoo declares while fluffing his pillow. “I get to see you in swim trunks.”

Hoseok explodes in laughter. “You horny bird, I’m half naked now, how’s this different?”

Hyunwoo shrugs before he buries himself beneath the blankets. Hoseok starts forcefully tugging at the sheets, so close to whining like a puppy. “Hyunwoo-ssi, come out, you’ll suffocate in there.”

“Join me,” Hyunwoo says, voice muffled, almost inaudible.

Hoseok grins. “I can’t deal with heat.”

“Well then, I’m afraid I can do nothing to assist your cause-”

“What about your promise?”

“What promise?”

“My supper was supposed to be served at seven.”

Hyunwoo peeks through a tiny opening in the blankets, hair fluffed out like a peacock, cheeks flushed, eyes a starry sky, and Hoseok dugs his soles into the mattress and holds himself back from lunging forward to kiss his best friend, quite literally heaven’s angel, Son Hyunwoo.

“You’re a fucking dream.”

Hyunwoo’s eyes crinkle, says, “I could be,” opens his arms wide, and Hoseok finally lifts his anchors and allow his head to fall.

His dreams are gentle, kind, he floats in cotton clouds. It’s the soundest he sleeps.

“You should take me out flying, someday.”

Hyunwoo smiles. “Soonish, bunny.”

✧ 


End file.
